Can You Keep a Secret?
by I-am-LMR
Summary: All Alex knows about her Secret Valentine is that he is extremely clever, is offbeat, has plenty to spend, completely adores her, knows everything about her, and is about two fries short of a Happy Meal. But she just won't let herself believe... BA fluff
1. The World Has Turned BarbiePuke Pink

Can You Keep A Secret?

By LMR

Summary: All Alex knows about her "Secret Valentine" is that he is extremely clever, is offbeat, has plenty to spend, completely adores her, knows everything about her, and is about two fries short of a Happy Meal. But she just won't let herself believe... B/A Valentine's Day Fluff!

Rated: K, or if you really want to be careful, maybe K+ just because of Alex's pottymouth

Disclaimer (As explained by Detective Goren): Well, once a show, I mean, is put out into the community, it no longer belongs to only the creators of the show, but becomes its own entity. Some quantum physicists and mystics might speculate that once these characters are created, they have a presence outside this understood universe, possibly existing in another spacetime as individual creations in the holographic universe model, also known as the divine mind. In other words, this fanfiction has as much reality and merit as any episode created for the show, and cannot therefore be considered infringement. Of course, I- (Interrupted by Eames) Look, what my ridiculously verbose partner is trying to say is that it doesn't matter because the need to obey copyright laws is trumped by the need for crazy monkey-sex. Got it, Dick?

Beta Tester: I don't have a beta. Do I need one? I have a _betta_. He's pretty and blue and eats blood worms and has an pleasant personality, but I don't think he's interested in my stories.

Archive: Um, okay. 'Slong as my name is on it.

Chapter 1: The World Has Turned Barbie-Puke Pink

It was two weeks till Valentine's Day, the world had already turned Barbie-puke pink. Alex Eames hated Valentine's Day. Whenever she mentioned this, people figured it was because she was lonely.

Oh, gag. Truth be told, she'd hated it from the time she was a teenager and she'd practically had to beat the boys off with a stick. But it was just so...oh, gag.

The only one who didn't think it was unexpected was her partner, Bobby Goren. As in most things, he guessed the reasons for her attitude immediately.

"What are you doing for Valentine's Day?" he had asked.

"Paying as little attention to it as possible," she grumbled in reply.

"Yeah, somehow you don't strike me as a Valentine's Day person."

"I'm going to pretend that I know that that was one of your brilliant insights and not a smart remark about my social life." She kept talking before the inevitable I'm sorry, I didn't mean- "Because I'm the smartass here, and don't you forget it. And you're right, as always. The whole thing makes me nauseous. The last time I was at the mall, I got so sick of the cupids and hearts and all things adorable that I had to pop into Hot Topic just to restore my sanity and return to my bubbly personality." She said this in her flattest voice, making him laugh. "Nothing like a place where you can browse for Care Bears right next to the Hannibal Lecter action figures. Unless something urgent comes up, I'm taking Valentine's day and the rest of the stupid week off to avoid it all, sitting at home with my sister, the single one, watching as many bloody gory horror movies I can get my hands on just to not be...fluffy."

Goren pouted, and she couldn't help but smile a little knowing exactly what was bothering him. She had taken very few days off since becoming his partner. He had...problems coping without her. She reminded herself for the umpteenth time in several years to write an apology to Lynne Bishop, then smiled wickedly. Nah. "What about you? Hot date?"

"Not that I know of," he answered, clicking on the time-off request button on his laptop to secure the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth. No point in coming in when he was just going to drive everyone batty. _Sometime_, he reminded himself, _I'm going to send Bishop a "sorry I was such a jerk" card. Nah._

"Hm. Wanna join me and my sister for the slicing and dicing? I mean, if you get that time off request approved that you just put in." She absently gestured toward his computer.

He smiled at her observation. "No, thanks," he answered off-hand, not paying attention to the _nice blow-off, jerk _face that he was getting from across the joined desks.

"Somebody you're not telling me about?" she teased, trying to keep her expression one of playfulness and not one of _hey, look at me, I just got some nifty green contact lenses! _ He would be able to tell the difference, of course. Of course, to tell the difference, he would have to actually pay attention to her. First the brush-off, and now he wasn't even looking at her, and it was ticking her off. That was something she wasn't at all used to. She couldn't remember exactly when she had noticed that he would sometimes stare at her from across their desks, or when she had decided he should do it more often, and now she mentally scolded herself for feeling jealous of a possibly non-existent girlfriend.

"Nope, no plans," he said simply, apparently finding nothing rude about saying that he preferred to do absolutely nothing than watch movies with her.

"Okay, suit yourself," she said, trying not to sound hurt.

"Well, I mean if you-"

"I said it doesn't matter."

"I was brusque, sorry." He looked at her appraisingly. "Your sister, you said she's...?"

"Off-limits," she answered stonily, not looking up from her paperwork.

"'Course, sorry." He examined her face again. _Why is he trying to read me like I'm a perp?_

"I just don't want to have to kill you if you break her heart, that's all," she explained simply.

Please R&R for several reasons:

1. I want to know what you like and what you don't because I never get sick of writing this silly fanfiction and I want to know how to write the inevitable tripe next time (a Dave Barry note: The Inevitable Tripe would be a great name for a rock band).

2. Let me know if you think The Inevitable Tripe would be a great name for a rock band. Please explain.

3. There are things about my writing I'm not sure of. I think I go overboard with the italics and the elip- the elipt- the liptickles- the dot dot dot thing...

4. Do my jokes suck? Um, never mind, don't tell me if they do.

Next time in Can You Keep a Secret?

_Alexandra,_

_Can you keep a secret?_

What on earth did that mean? She turned it over, frowning.

_I can._

"Hmm." She could see out of the corner of her eye that he partner was watching her with interest. He wanted to see the card, but wasn't going to ask, she interpreted. "Yes, you may," she answered, passing him the card.


	2. The Chase Begins

Can You Keep a Secret?

By LMR

Disclaimer: We're fics! We're fics in ti-ights! We go around writing stories without any rights! We're fics! We're fics in ti-ights! Finally giving our favorite cops a lovelife! We may not own the show, but we sure do know how to write it right! Because we're fics! We're fics in ti-ights! Always on gaurd to keep the story light! When you need some cheer just look for the fics in tights! We're fluff! (dedicated to Shelagh)

A/N: Thanks so much for the great reviews. I'm trying to follow technical grammar rules with the thoughts italics, but I write so many thoughts, I can see what you mean. And yes, this is pure BA love story. No murder mystery this time. My first and probably last attempt at a murder mystery/love story is Haunted.

Chapter 2: The Chase Begins

Alex smiled broadly, seeing a bouquet of twelve yellow roses with hints of baby's breath and fern leaves. She was clearly surprised. "Thank you," she told her partner.

"I-" her partner started.

Her expression changed to puzzlement, not noticing that he had said anything. "But either you have completely lost any objective reality in the sense of time and don't realize that Valentine's Day is two weeks away, or I'm about to find out about something you did that I'm not going to be happy about." She raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't do anything. Including that," he gestured to the flowers. He looked a little sour about the whole thing.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't- I mean, I wasn't expecting, it's just that, well, it seemed like something you would do. Just because you're thoughtful like that, you know. It's not like I think you should or anything." She made a guilty expression, but he blew it off.

"No, actually, it's _exactly _what I was going to do, just that I was going to be more... punctual. Some idiot beat me to it, and now I don't know what to do." She smiled, trying to figure out if he had really been planning the roses or was just trying to keep her from feeling guilty about expecting something from him. It was sweet either way, really. She hunted for a card, and sure enough, it wasn't his handwriting.

Alexandra,

Can you keep a secret?

What on earth did that mean? She turned it over, frowning.

I can.

"Hmm." She could see out of the corner of her eye that he partner was watching her with interest. He wanted to see the card, but wasn't going to ask, she interpreted. "Yes, you may," she answered, passing him the card.

"You recognize the writing, Eames?" he wondered.

"No. Looks like a woman's actually. Not my mom's or one of my sisters', though. I'm guessing whoever did it got someone else to write it so I wouldn't know who it was. Wait." She had just noticed the envelope sitting under the vase.

This is a treat meant just for you, not me, so take someone you care about.

'This' was two tickets to... "Oh my God," she whispered.

"What? What is it?" He wondered, looking concerned.

"It doesn't say who it is, if that's what you're thinking. It's Broadway tickets. _The Lion King_. That's supposed to be amazing. Not to mention sold out for a year. I've been wanting to see it. Everyone says it's so 'out there' for a stage production, completely unconventional. I love anything tha-" She cut short her sentence.

She picked up her cell and dialed speed 2. "Hi. I was wondering if my little guy was busy Saturday? Well, I got these tickets to _The Lion King_ stage show as a gift, and the card says should take whoever I want, I was hoping...Well, I don't know who. No, it was some 'secret Valentine.' I have no idea. No, of course it's not! Well, is he free? I'd like to take him. Oh. Well, okay. I don't know who to...No, I can't do that! Oh, stop that! Yeah, yeah. I'll talk to you later. Bye." She sighed as she hung up the phone.(1) "Nephew's busy," she explained to Goren. She paused a moment, considering. "What are you doing Saturday?"

"Hm? Oh, no plans. Mystery puzzles and reading, I guess."

"Wanna go to _The Lion King _instead?"

"Me?" He looked a little disbelieving. "Yeah, sure, thanks. But isn't the whole point of it for your...admirer to take you?"

"No. It's for me. I am supposed to take the man of my choice. Unfortunately, the man of my choice has to go to Billy's birthday party, so I asked you."

"Oh, how can I resist such a charmer?"

"Good grief, we're rubbing off on each other. Just remember that I started picking up the smelling stuff thing a lot quicker than you picked up the snarky one-liner thing. But bless ya', you keep trying. Keep that up, you may just be funny by next month."

"I supplicate myself in the presence of the Master of the Snark," he said flatly.

"Damn right, you do," she responded, trying not to give him the satasfaction of seeing her smile at the comment.

(1)I'm hoping you can kind of piece together the gist what her sister said, but if you would like it simplified, here is the full conversation:

Hi. I was wondering if my little guy was busy Saturday?

Why?

Well, I got these tickets to _The Lion King _stage show as a gift, and the card says I should take whoever I want, I was hoping...

Who gave you that?

Well, I don't know who. No, it was some 'secret Valentine.'

Who do you think it was?

I have no idea.

Could be that super cute partner wink wink

No, of course it's not!

_Right_

Well, is he free? I'd like to take him.

Billy's birthday party is that day. (She's lying btw)

Oh. Well, okay. I don't know who to...

You could ask that cute partner!

No, I can't do that!

You know you want to!

Oh, stop that! Yeah, yeah. I'll talk to you later. Bye.

Next time in Can You Keep a Secret?:

"They're called peace roses."

"Oh, well I can definitely agree with that sentiment, but why from a Valentine?" she wondered, more to herself than anything.

"Well, I've never heard of it, but I guess if yellow is friendship and pink is affection, maybe it's..."

"A friendship that's becoming more," she mused quietly. She stole a glance at Goren. He was looking resolutely the other way, and she studied his face for emotion. Something was there...annoyance? Anger? He was mad about the fact that she had an admirer. She wasn't sure exactly how she felt about that. _A little happier than I should_, she figured.


	3. It's Just Goren

Can You Keep a Secret?

By LMR

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I know Dick Wolf, and this is not Dick Wolf. It's like something is wearing Dick Wolf. Like a suit. A Dick Wolf suit. (Groan).

Chapter 3: It's Just Goren

Alex had never been to a Broadway show before. It troubled her some that she didn't know who was sending her: She knew there were thieves who gave tickets then cleaned a place out, but she had always been careful to be friendly with the neighbors, one of the easiest, cheapest security systems there was. She had made sure to mention that she would be out for several hours tonight, and they were attentive, grateful to have a cop in their own hallway. The comfort of that was worth occasionally begging off a request to look up the licence plate number of any idiot that cut one of them off.

But the seats were nice ones, expensive, and it was hard not to worry about who would be spending so much money on her. Isn't that what psycho stalkers do? Well, didn't need to worry about a psycho trying to get her alone. She wouldn't be out with the Mystery Man; just with Goren. Stalkers were possessive: They didn't give gifts that would encourage their prey to go out with another man, even it was just a friend. And no one was going to try to hurt her while she was with tall, dark, and scary. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was comforting to have her partner around, of course, but she had always prided herself on being tough, and she couldn't help but wonder how much of the respect she always got at One Police Plaza she had actually earned, and how much came from a fear of Goren. But she refused to be bitter at him about that. There would always be jerks who would only respect her because she was along with him, and there was no way to ask any cop not to be protective of his partner. He certainly didn't have a claim in the "Don't mess with my partner" department. She smiled briefly remembering the shiner she'd given Officer Campbell when he'd made the mistake of calling Goren a "schizo freak." He hadn't filed any kind of complaint, preferring that no one knew what had actually happened, not to mention that he knew she was right. All she'd gotten was a speech from Deakins about being "disappointed" in her. It had been worth it.

She forced herself to stop reliving happy memories and get back to the fact that she had no idea what to wear for a date on Broadway. _No, not a date_, she corrected herself. _It's just Goren_. But there was no "just" about Broadway. Something nice. She picked out a dress; long, elegant dark brown. She wouldn't look like someone trying to be sexy, just someone who couldn't help it. Goren would-

_Oh, God. What am I thinking? I want to look unintentionally sexy for Goren? I can't have him: What do I want to do, torture him? I make it hard enough on him already. When I wear a sleeveless shirt, he spends the entire day trying not to look at me. And I'm not even going to try to convince myself that I don't get a kick out of seeing him go undercover in a T-shirt._

_I want my partner._

It was a testament to her willpower that she didn't slam her head against the closet door repeatedly yelling "What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?" Alex Eames had always been partnered with a man, and her hormones had never taken her anywhere at all inappropriate. Well, hormones nothing, really. She'd noticed immediately that he was, for lack of a better word, hot. But these feelings hadn't started then. They'd started when she'd fal-

_Oh, smeg._

She headed for the closet, determined to get the bulkiest, most covering, and therefore most cruelty-free pantsuit she could find. The doorbell rang, and any thought she'd had of changing went out the window when she saw the man on the other side of the door. She'd been expecting him to dress up (How dressing up from his usual would be possible for him she wasn't sure), and he would have looked good dressed up...

But, _damn_. He was wearing casual slacks and a simple dress shirt. A short-sleeved dress shirt.

_He's ripped. I'm toast. _

"I dressed down," he said simply, knowing she was taking in the outfit. "I hope you don't mind?" He started to put his coat on to go outside.

"Um, no," she answered, feeling pathetic for the fact that she had to force her eyes to focus on his face. "I guess I dressed up too much. I've never seen a Broadway show, so..."

"No, that outfit's just fine. My mistake."

"Well, you look nice, anyway," she said, quite sure she had just won the Understatement of the Month award.

He smiled a little. "Thanks." He paused. "If I say you look nice, are you going to thank me or punch me?"

She pretended to think about this for a moment. "Thank you, I suppose, but only because, contrary to popular belief, I can't read your mind." He laughed and she was pleased to see his face turn pink. "Let's go." She grabbed her coat of the hook and slipped it on. It seemed momentarily odd to her that he didn't take her arm. He was worried again, she realized, about being inappropriate. She slipped her arm in his and started walking purposefully toward the door.

Through the show, Goren was maddeningly well-behaved. He kept his irritatingly incredible muscles to himself. Still, she began to think that if her admirer was a stalker, it might well be worth it for this. The show itself was amazing, and though silent and separate, the company was even better. How could she be feeling so up in the air about a man she spent all her time with anyway? Were things really that different now than all day at the crime scenes? No. As she turned the feelings over in her mind, she was sure it was the same. It was the same bond she always felt. Strange how she could focus so well on the cases and perps without being distracted by her attraction. But the work was important and interesting. It was what they both loved to do. And it was the same relationship.

It was because her bond to him wasn't needy for constant reinforcement. There was no ridiculous desire to be clingy or hormonal at work because their connection was solid enough to not be threatened by a distance of two feet. To be honest, if they wanted to, they could probably have an affair with no one the wiser. They could ke-

_Tell me that was not what I was about to think!_

She looked at him, puzzled. He was completely entranced with the play. She hadn't even begun to consider that she could be sitting next to the admirer that had treated them both to show. Surely Detective Goren wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for his partner, or if he did, to act on it.

_Said Miss Pot to Mister Kettle_, she thought ruefully. _Didn't I just spend the last fifteen minutes trying to convince myself that we could handle this?_

As the lights dimmed and flashed, and everyone hurried back to their seats with comfortably emptied bladders. "I should warn you," she ventured. "I have this thing for turning my friends into involuntary pillows in situations like this."

"That's fine. I've done that since middle school." He laughed a little. "I think my friend Vicky thought my name was "hey you, head cushion" all through high school.

"Really," she answered unenthusiastically.

"Well, then she got herself a steady girlfriend, and I was relieved of duty."

"Oh." Alex was certain that the Great Gor-o could tell that every muscle in her body had just relaxed. Well, if the small but bright smile on his face was any indication of what he was poking around for, he could notice whatever he wanted.

Singing bird puppeteers were running to the stage now, and Alex made good on her promise. She made sure to wriggle around in her chair for a few seconds to convey, _I'm trying to get comfortable on the seat first before I try you; honest_. Then, feigning frustration with her ability to sit unencumbered. She went ahead and leaned her head up against his arm. _How considerate of him to wear short sleeves._ He didn't seem to find this disagreeable, judging by the fact that he decided the top of her head would make a nice chin rest.

"How was it?" he wondered as they left the show.

"Excellent." _The play was pretty darn good, too. _

"Yeah, I loved it. So, it was, um, 'unconventional' enough to keep you interested," he prodded as they walked out to the car.

_Good grief, doesn't he ever miss anything?_ She let herself smile up at him in what she hoped was a quasi-enigmatic manner. "Off key to perfection." He grinned.

Then he started explaining the world history of shadow puppetry. Oh, well.

Next time:

_I can keep a secret, but I can't keep it from you anymore._

"Ooh," Alex said. "My secret admirer strikes again. A girl could get used to this.


	4. Yellow To Pink

Can You Keep a Secret?

By LMR

Disclaimer: If ownership were measured in units of loving the characters, I would have them. We know we are real fans when:

We think that "Bobby-smell" is a real word.

We use "snarky" frequently in everyday conversation.

We've bought ABBA Gold Hits on only Eames's word.

We giggle hysterically every time someone says...Acquired Taste!

Unfortunately Dick Wolf, who probably doesn't pay attention to all that stuff, owns it, and the characters owe their existence almost entirely to Erbe and D'Onofrio who hopefully never read this stuff. (They said our characters did WHAT?!) Thank you for letting me borrow them for nefarious purposes.

A/N: Another reminder, yes this is BA romance. You will never find anything else from me. I try to write stories where they could be taken as just friends, but damned if they don't just start flirting on me and I can't stop them!

Chapter 4: Yellow to Pink

"Hey, Eames." Her partner had a forced smile on his face. He pointed to her desk. Another dozen roses. These were a beautiful combination of pink and yellow together. The petals were yellow, deepening into pink as they reached to the center.

"Well, they're beautiful, but what's with the colors?"

"They're called peace roses."

"Oh, well I can definitely agree with that sentiment, but why from a Valentine?" she wondered, more to herself than anything.

"Well, I've never heard of it, but I guess if yellow is friendship and pink is affection, maybe it's..."

"A friendship that's becoming more," she mused quietly. She stole a glance at Goren. He was looking resolutely the other way, and she studied his face for emotion. Something was there...annoyance? Anger? He was mad about the fact that she had an admirer. She wasn't sure exactly how she felt about that. _A little happier than I should_, she figured. She reached for the card.

_Secrets can be tricky. Some are worth the trouble. I hope you agree that this one is._

_If it's such a secret, why is this guy sending them right to work where everyone's gawking at me?_ she wondered in annoyance. And another envelope.

_Something else just for you. Take someone you love._

Today's "something" was two passes for a carriage ride through Times Square. She smiled, seeing a nifty opportunity. _Okay, Mr. Smartypants. If you're going to get surly about my admirer, what happens if..._

She winced. "Oh, that's so cliche!"

He raised an eyebrow. He didn't look particularly annoyed or agreeable. "What is it?"

"A carriage ride through Times Square. That's so..."

"What?" _There it was, the kicked puppy dog look. Or was that the half-asleep do I actually have to pay attention to what you're saying look? Men!_

"Well, this guy seemed pretty original so far, but men always do the carriage ride thing. Yawn."

"You didn't think tickets to _The Lion King _was weird?"

"Well, that was _good _weird. This is pathetic weird."

"Well, you'll have to teach me the subtle variations of weird sometime." He went back to the paperwork. "So you giving up on this guy?"

She shrugged and tossed the passes on the desk by the flowers. "What do you care?" she asked offhand, the kind of question that didn't want an answer.

"Oh, right, none of my beeswax."

Even Eames had to almost laugh at that. "Yeah, okay, I'll go. And just for that momentary return to fifth grade, why don't come along?"

"Your admirer isn't going to show this time, either?"

"Nope, card says to take a friend," she informed him.

"It says that?" She nodded. "Sure, sounds nice."

"I still can't figure..." She looked at him quizzically. "Do you think it's Lewis? I mean, he seems to..."

"No, it's not." She looked at him, eyebrow raised. "It's not really his style," he explained. She shot him a skeptical look. _You're not telling me everything. _"Okay, okay, I called him yesterday. He doesn't know anything about it."

Alex stopped at her closet, thinking. She had two winter coats, one slightly warmer. She held them both up and weighed her options. It was supposed to be a cold day. Possibly snow. She put the heavy coat away.

"Ready for our horsey ride?" she greeted him at the door.

"You're right, it's pathetic," he conceded.

"Oh, well, in that case, if you don't want to go..." she turned and moved as if she were taking off her coat.

He didn't call her bluff. "Oh, it'll be fun. Come on." He looked absently at the ceiling as they walked. "Another birthday party today?"

"What?"

"Your nephew. Why didn't you ask him first?" He was looking quite smug, seemingly secure in the knowledge that she had no idea what her nephew was doing today.

_Too smug_, she thought. _Time to play. _ "I thought it was a little beneath him."

"Well, they are beautiful, anyway," she admitted, patting one of the Clydesdales, and smiling at Goren.

"Definitely." He rubbed his gloved hands together eagerly. "Ready to indulge in cliche?"

She climbed up. "Well, I really should admit that I don't think it's all that bad."

He frowned, getting settled. "I don't know, I think you were right the first time. It's pretty feeble."

"Well, I appreciate it." She glanced out of the corner of her eye to see his expression. She couldn't tell if he was gratified by her comment or not, but for what it was worth, he looked content just to be here.

She shivered. "Don't you have a warmer coat?" he wondered.

"Yeah, I guess I picked the wrong one to wear, hm?" As always, her lying was exquisite.

He paused and gave a what-the-hell shrug, putting his arms over her shoulders and draping them down over hers. "Is this okay with you?"

"Yeah, sure, thanks," she said, trying to sound unconcerned. _Gorgeous, irresistible man putting arms around me, no biggie._

"You don't have any gloves?" He asked incredulously. He'd have thought she'd have more sense than that. He took off his own gloves, and instead of offering them to her, he put them in his pockets and enveloped her hands in his own. They were big enough to make complete mittens for her. "Okay?" He asked permission again.

"Of course. That's nice." She instantly regretted that she had said anything so telling, but he didn't react to her over-exuberant phrasing. "I must have left my gloves in the other coat."

"I had a really wonderful time. Thank you, Bobby."

He looked down shyly. "Thank your admirer. He did this."

"Yes, but you're the one who made it a wonderful time. Thank you," she reiterated. She stood on tiptoe and hugged him, letting her cheek touch his skin, just to see how he reacted. She couldn't read him. _Wow, he smells nice_. Alex shook of the thought. _No purposely inhaling Bobby-smell_. "Bye."

"I had a great time, too," he said into the side of her face. He tested his luck by giving her an almost imperceptible kiss on the cheek. He could feel her smile, and he inhaled deeply.

She walked toward the door of her apartment, smiling. As she walked in the door, something fell out of her pocket. He started to call out, but then he saw what it was. A glove. He grinned and let her go inside. He tucked the glove in his pocket to drop near her desk at work, where she might have dropped it. _I know nothing, I see nothing, I never noticed that you had gloves the whole time_.

Please review!

Next time:

He had never read anything that had touched him the way that card had.

He had to be sure he didn't drive her away.

BTW: Why are you reading the teaser trailer when the next chapter is right over there? Duh!


	5. Love, Peanut Butter

Can You Keep A Secret?

Disclaimer (done by Manic Howard from 'The Faithful'): 

Yeah, yeah, see how it goes? She takes 'em. See that? LMR, she takes 'em and she does stuff. LMR, like yellin' more, see? Then she got D'Onofrio from Mexico, and Erbe outta Italy, see? She was getting' heavy with this Italian guy, right? Then she took it, she took it from Dick Wolf, cuz ya snooze, ya loose, see? And when you snooze: Beautiful dreamer, make up a tale. Fill it with roses and jewelry, and it's like that you know. Oooh, donuts. I like donuts.

Note: Someone asked about the timing. Since I'm so behind I might as well be in the Cretaceous, I'm just going to plop this one after Logan and Barek come into the story, but before Deakins left just because Deakins rocks. I wrote both Logan and Barek into this fic. I know nothing about them because I tend to look at them about the same as Goren did with Bishop: I spent the maybe three hours I've seen of them grumbling that Goren and Eames would have solved the same mystery in twenty minutes, had time leftover to foil a terrorist plot, and been funnier, too. Apparently I'm so far behind that Logan has some new partner now or something. Don't even _expect _me to try to write her. I'm barely getting used to Barek.

Chapter : Love, Peanut Butter

The day before Valentine's Day found Goren at work early, toting a box of donuts with two bouquets of yellow roses perched on top of it. Of course, arriving early was hardly an unusual experience for Goren. But this morning, his partner had beaten him to it. There was already a red envelope in the middle of his desk. He grinned. But she had apparently gone to the bathroom, because she wasn't there now. He dropped the donuts in the breakroom after choosing one for himself and putting a French donut with a napkin on Eames's desk along with a white envelope and the larger bouquet of roses. The smaller bouquet went on Barek's desk. He came back from the break room with his own coffee and a cup exactly the way Eames liked, then smiled as she came into the room, and started to open his card.

"Nope, me first," she insisted, picking up the envelope on her desk "The roses are..." she started tentatively.

"Yes, _these _are from me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Three dozen?"

He shrugged non-committal. "I had to outdo whoever beat me to it, if not in quality, at least in quantity."

"Thank you, they're beautiful, you overzealous wacko," she said as he grinned. She took a sip of the coffee, and he felt slighted that he hadn't even given him a nod, let alone a word of thanks about it. And why on earth was she so insistent on opening hers first? But she already had.

_To My Favorite Partner_

_Happy Valentine's Day_

_And you're not just my favorite partner because you're the only one who stuck around for more than five minutes. I don't deserve you, and I am so glad I have you._

_Bobby_

"Thank you, Bobby." But he noticed a strain in her voice. Had he been too personal? She gestured toward his card. He read it out loud.

_Bobby,_

_Happy Valentine's Day_

_Now, stop thanking me for being your partner as if it's some some kind of indentured servitude. I have had so much fun these past years. I would never trade you for any partner, ever. I know you are waaaay older than I am, but you are sticking around until **I **retire, even though you'll be about eighty _(he stopped here to throw a paper clip at her while she laughed) _because I'm not working with any other partner. So you are stuck with me, Mr. Jelly! _

Seeing the next words, he paused here and swallowed before continuing in a subdued voice.

_Love, Peanut Butter _

_PS: Thank you for the hyper-sugared coffee and the eggy, twisty donut._

He looked up to find her looking down and trying not to laugh. He grinned broadly, but found himself struggling to keep his composure. "Alex, that's the...uh. Wow." He swallowed. "Thank you."

Alex shrugged and said simply, "Yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head." Fortunately for him, she chose that moment to look down at her paperwork long enough for him to get a hold on himself. He had never read anything that had touched him the way that card had.

He had to be sure he didn't drive her away.

"Hey, Eames!" Logan's voice brought his attention up from the card that he was still gazing down at. Logan was carrying a bouquet of roses, pink this time. "These were just dropped off for you, you little minx."

"You scared me senseless carrying those, you know. For one horrible second..."

"Hey! You could do worse!" he said, pretending to be annoyed.

Alex dived into the flowers for a card, and read it to the two men and Barek, who had come to thank Goren for the flowers (Aww, feeling left out, Mike?) and stayed around for the Eames-admirer show.

_I can keep a secret, but I can't keep it from you anymore._

"Ooh," Alex said. "My secret admirer strikes again. A girl could get used to this. Did you see who brought them?"

"Receptionist said a delivery guy just brought them in to him and dropped them off. He was just about to send somebody up, but he knew I worked up here too, so he made me your pack mule."

"And what a nice pack mule you are, thank you." She turned to Goren. "Well, now you're tied with Mr. Incognito at three dozen roses. Maybe I'm starting to like Valentine's Day."

"Nope, sorry Goren, you're going to have to do a little better," Logan said. "This came with it." It was a small velvet box with a piece of paper tied to it with a ribbon. Eames almost did a spit-take with her coffee.

_Relax, it's not that kind of ring: just a gift for a woman who deserves it, no strings attached. I thought this kind of ring would be fitting._

The ring was silver and seemed at first to be molded into a braid with too many cords, but on closer inspection, she could see that it was actually four smaller rings woven together. Curious as to exactly how much of an admirer she had, she examined the inside of the band, while Logan, Barek, and Goren all hovered over her. "Only used to having _one _nosy wackjob leaning into my personal space, thanks," she chastised, and they all backed off with a "sorry." It was only a minute though, before said one wackjob was right back down over her shoulder. "It's not sterling," she said, sounding half gloomy because someone didn't like her as much as she'd thought, and half triumphant because she'd caught him in his deception. "There's no 925."

"May I?" Eames put the box in Goren's waiting hand. "Not sterling. Those initials there, PT, platinum."

"Platinum?" Eames eyes widened. "That's expensive. I can't believe someone would..."

"Aren't you going to put it on?" Logan wondered.

"After I find out who sent it," she said, slipping it back into the box. "I'll either put it on or pawn it." But despite her cool response, she was obviously pleased, setting it on a choice spot on her desk right next to the three dozen yellow roses she'd gotten that morning. The pink ones lit up the other side of the desk. And Joe's picture there in the middle. Funny how over time, it had become a picture of an old friend; too bad he died, not too bad he's gone. _Can I have a divorce? Thanks, dear. Hope you're having fun in your new life. I am._

"It wouldn't be _that _expensive," Goren said in the tone Bishop had come to loathe. Eames bit back a smile. "That was several rings, wasn't it? Together?"

"Yes."

"I've seen that kind of ring in the Bits and Pieces catalog. What did that note say about it?" She passed it over, focus back on the paperwork. "Fitting. Hm." There was a pause, and she ignored the comment. "That's an interesting thing to say about a ring like this," he reiterated.

"All right, I give up. This is obviously where you want me to ask you why you find it so interesting. Why is it so interesting?"

"Nothing." She called his bluff and shrugged, going back to her paperwork. And as she'd expected...

"It's just that, well, the story is that men used to give these to their wives as a sign of possession. If they tried to take them off, they fall apart." He paused, lost in thought. "The assumption was that they couldn't be trusted, the wives, I mean. Of course the way they were treated, not really a surprise. And that they weren't bright enough to put it back together. Ouch."

"Not everyone reads the encyclopedia for fun, Goren."

"Yeah, lighten up," Logan encouraged. "You're just jea-oof!" This last syllable was uttered with the help of Barek who had jabbed him in the ribcage with her elbow.

"This is just...why me?

Goren's brow furrowed. "Why would you ask that?"

"Well, if I were a twentysomething, maybe, but it all just seems a little too ridiculous. And these notes. 'Can you keep a secret?'" She frowned. "You don't suppose it could be a stalker or something?"

"Doubt it," he said dismissively. His face changed to concern. "Why do you find it so hard to believe that somebody really cares about you?"

"I don't, I guess," she said unconvincingly. "It just seems like a ridiculous amount of attention. Not to mention money. And what's with the secrets stuff? Why can't this guy just give me the flowers in person?" He just shrugged. She slammed her hands down on her desk, not hard, but enough to startle everyone around her. "This is ridiculous. I need to know who's doing this." 

"Wha..." Logan started incomprehensibly.

"This gift is _too _expensive. It makes me worry: It's not like I haven't pissed anybody off in my life." Goren raised an eyebrow. "I meant _perps_," she sighed, seeing the look on his face. "Anyway," she began clicking on her computer. "I'm going to figure this out." 

"You can't just use NYPD access to figure something like this out on your own," Goren chided quietly across the desks. 

"Of course I can't. You're going to help me." He rolled his eyes. "Well, if he really knows me as well as he seems to think he does, he should have expected this." 

Goren shrugged noncommittally and conceded defeat. "What do you want me to do?" 

All business, Eames opened the ring box again, pondered it. "I'm going to start with the ring. You said Bits and Pieces...what's that?" 

"Catalog of puzzles and brainteasers." 

"Humf, your poor brain already gets teased all the way to Ohio. They have these?" 

"Not in platinum." 

"Hmm, not exactly Wal-Mart merchandise, is it?" 

"Probably ordered from a small private company. Are there any markings on it besides the PT?" She examined it, shook her head. "Box," he insisted, holding out his hand. 

"Holding horses, please, Smartypants." _Sheesh, stop it with the pants, Alex! _She passed the box over. 

"Smartypants, huh?" he asked, looking at it. 

"Well, it's a good deal more G rated than the other phrases coming to mind." She almost laughed aloud at the fact that her smooth lie was hitting the truth square on the head. 

Apparently, though, he bought into the profane insult interpretation, though, because he laughed a little and replied, "I think 'wiseass' is a term considered acceptable in the bullpen. We're all grownups here. At least I thought we were until someone started throwing 'Smartypants' around."

Eames laughed, getting an image of someone throwing random brainy trousers around the police station. Oh, well, better that than the 'wiseass' imagery. He was probably noticing that she was trying to clear her mind of some picture, and she hoped he didn't guess which one. 

"Well, there's a mark on the bottom of the box, but I don't recognize it." He looked thoughtful for a moment, pulled out his catalog. Flipping quickly past a dog-eared page and a little slower through the first half of the catalog before resting on the order form. He dialed the 800 number. "Hi. Bobby. Yeah, I'm looking at the catalog, and I'm interested in these puzzle rings, and I was wondering if you carry them in platinum." Alex wondered briefly if he was getting deja vu. "No? Hm, do you know where I _could _order one of those. Sure." A few moments passed. "Yeah, I'm here." He jotted down a name. "Thanks so much." He hung up and passed her the paper. "They mentioned this company, but it's probably one in hundreds. I'd recommend starting with the flowers. They come with a label, right." 

"Yeah, um, May's Flowers. Local place. It's not far from my apartment, so that doesn't really tell me much." She stood decisively, carrying the cards with her. "There's a nice little Chinese place right next door. Time for lunch." 

"Do I have a say in this?" he wondered. She just raised an eyebrow. _Of course you do, but you'll come with me anyway._ "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." 

"Hi," she smiled brightly walking into the flower shop. Goren ducked into the corner, examining a nice _strelitzia reginae._

"Hi, you are..." Eames knew that getting the woman's name would make her more likely to help. It would establish enough of a superficial bond to make her feel indebted. 

"Ellie," she said, a little startled that someone wanted to even know the clerk's name. That couldn't hurt, either. 

"Hi, Ellie, my name's Alex, and I know you're probably not supposed to do this," she gave her best undercover sillyshrug. "But I'm getting some roses, and I just...I gotta know. They came with these notes." She showed the woman the cards. "Do you remember..." 

"No. But I recognize the handwriting. May!" she called into the back. 

"Whumpf?" came a voice from the back.

"Question about some flowers." 

May stumbled out of the back, her hair possibly more askew than it might normally be, but then again, May looked as though she might be in a permanent state of disarray. "Yes, Ma'am?" 

"Alex," Eames corrected. "I got some flowers from this shop, with these notes here," she laid them out on the counter. "And I was hoping you would remember who bought them." 

"Well, I _should_. Seeing as I wrote these notes...but I don't remember who it was. Some guy." 

"A man, okay," Alex said patiently. She had kind of figured that part. "Any characteristics you can remember?" she asked, feeling like she was talking to a witness. Hard to do without Goren right there to bounce things around. He was staying well out of the way.

May thought for a moment. "He was white. 'Bout your age, I guess...um, I don't know." 

"Tall, short?" May just shrugged non-committally. 

Alex peeked to make sure Goren's attention was still focused on the plant in the corner. She pointed, hiding her finger with her body. "Was it him?"she mouthed. May shook her head, and Alex found herself not knowing how to feel about the information. It was a relief, but... 

Bummer. 

"Did he explain these notes? I mean, they're weird." She decided to get a little more sisterhood into the conversation. "I'll be honest: it seems sweet, but it could also be kind of creepy. Some of the other gifts have been expensive, and I want to know if I'm really loved or if I've got a stalker." 

"Well, he seemed pretty nice." 

"You remember _that_, but nothing about the way he looked or talked?" 

"Well, um...What I mean is that nobody threatening or creepy has been here lately." 

"Did he have these notes written down? Did he give you something to copy?" 

"Hmm, yes. But he took them back." 

Alex scowled. "You're sure it wasn't," she hissed. 

May's eyes lit up a little as she looked into the corner. "I think I would remember _him_," she whispered.

Alex didn't like _that _answer much, either. "Thanks for your help."

Tomorrow:

"Hey, Al, I brought _Valentine_, _My Bloody Valentine_, _Freddy Vs. Jason_, the _Saw_ Tril-" Andrea stopped short when she saw the flowers. "So much for the I hate Valentine's Day party."

Please review (or I might not post. Muahahahaha!)


	6. Love and ABBA

Can You Keep a Secret?

By LMR

Wow! Thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!!! I can't say how much these reviews mean to me! I'm glad I'm giving people a little joy on this miserable, blood sucking holiday! (You never guessed I _hate _Valentine's Day, did you? Bring on the bloodshed!)

BTW: I mean no disrespect to Joe: that is the way I see _myself _dealing with death. The point of it is, she wouldn't take him back if she had to trade the life she has now; she just wishes he hadn't died such a sucky death because it wasn't fair to him. Sorry, but writing about Joe makes me irritable, so I glaze over him. 

I _especially _want to thank everyone who said they couldn't figure out who her admirer is. I tried to make it difficult to tell, but I honestly figured everyone would see right through me and know the correct answer, either that it is or isn't Bobby. I must be better with this mystery thing than I thought! If my ego gets pumped up, and I write a casefile next, we know who to blame. I thought my last mystery was okay, but there were people who couldn't actually figure out who the killer was, apparently, even after _finishing _the story. Hmm. Well, thanks again, all!

Disclaimer: This chapter is too long to bother even telling you that I don't own it!

Chapter 6: Love and ABBA

Alex committed assault and battery on her alarm clock, then lifted herself onto her right elbow and gave the offending appliance a dirty look, just in case she hadn't made her point strongly enough with her fist. She let her mind organize itself for a moment before she even attempted to get up. Her brain fumbled in quick bursts. Six-thirty. (Why am I up so late?) No work. (Why not? It's) Wednesday. (Took the day off to avoid) _Valentine's Day_. She had never thought that the fact that it was Valentine's Day would feel like a good reason to get out of bed in the morning.

But she had never had such a doting admirer, either. A Broadway show, a carriage ride, a platinum ring, for goodness' sakes. Even just the flowers was enough to be overwhelming. Three dozen roses, so far. Well, six dozen if you count the three Goren had given her. She smiled. _I have to water my six dozen roses. _Talk about a reason to get out of bed!

The cluster of color-blend roses had been bumped to the top of the fridge yesterday due to a lack of surface area. The thought tickled her again as she got up on a stepstool to water them each in turn. _I have too many admirer-roses to know where to put them. _These flowers would take second string until she knew who they were from, at which point they would take their place either in the middle of the kitchen table (where Goren's three dozen were sitting now), or possibly in the trash, depending on who had been lavishing her (_there's that tickle again, someone's_ lavishing _me!_) with gifts. She stepped down to water the three dozen on her table. For one very brief moment, she felt bad that she would, sometime today, very likely move Goren's roses over from their first place position. She liked having them there. Then it occurred to her how ridiculous that thought seemed, and she pushed it out of her mind.

"Hey, Al, I brought _Valentine_, _My Bloody Valentine_, _Freddy Vs. Jason_, the _Saw_ Tril-" Andrea stopped short when she saw the flowers. "So much for the I hate Valentine's Day party."

"No, not really. Come in."

"Who the hell..."

"I don't know," she answered. "Oh, well, those I do," she gestured, correcting herself. "Those are from Goren. Those are some secret whoseitswhat. I have no idea."

She raised an eyebrow. "You partner brought you flowers?" There was a smirk on her face that gave away exactly with she thought of this revelation.

Alex shrugged noncommittally. "He's very thoughtful, it's just his personality, it's not me. He got some for Barek, too," she added hastily.

"Three dozen?" Andrea asked skeptically.

"No, one dozen, but she's not his partner, hasn't known him nearly as long, and the three dozen was a joke anyway."

"Joke, huh?"

"He said he was keeping up with the Joneses," she said gesturing to the flowers on top of the fridge. "Because Mr. X gave me a dozen yellow roses a couple weeks ago, and he said that's what he'd been planning, and I don't know if he really had been or if it was just to make me feel better about assuming those were from him." She was babbling, and she knew it.

Andrea's smirk only grew. "You assumed _what_?"

"What I assumed was that he'd done something I wasn't going to like and was trying to make up for it." She knew as soon as soon as the words left her mouth that they weren't going to help her case.

Andrea raised an eyebrow looking very much like her sister. "Is he your partner or your husband?"

"Andrea, please," Alex sounded exhausted, and her sister picked up on the change.

She raised her arms defensively. "Just teasing. You know that. I'm done. Now we'll start teasing you about your secret admirer. You have no clue?"

"Well, there is Lewis. He's a friend of- um, mine. He seems to really like me. But this," she reached for the third card. "Makes me think it's not." She handed it to Andrea. "'Can't keep it from you.' Lewis hasn't exactly been subtle about his interest."

She read the card and furrowed her brow. "Can I see the others?" Alex rolled her eyes. "Typical Eames, when there's something to figure out...first, second, third," she explained.

"Hmm. Anything else from this guy?"

She briefly explained the other gifts, then showed Andrea the ring.

"This guy's loaded. Keep him. Wait a minute," her sister said, not distracted by the ring as Alex had hoped. "You went to these other things he invited you to, and you still don't know who he is? Confused, now."

Alex showed her sister the first envelope. "The other one's the same."

"And who did you ask along?"

"I tried to get my little dude, but he had a birthday party." She knew she was opening a can of terrestrial goo-creatures, but said it anyway. "So I just took Goren." She tried to make the decision sound casual.

"Someone you..."

"I care about my friends, yes," Alex said coolly. "You said you would drop that."

"Hey, I'm still talking about your admirer. Weird how he pops into everything, though. Isn't it?"

"He does not." She gestured to the movies. "And I still hate Valentine's Day. Now bring on the bloodshed."

There was a knock at the door. The sisters looked at each other, and even the serious Alex Eames couldn't keep from looking somewhat gleeful. "Maybe now you find out."

Alex shushed her and answered the door. A very attractive tanned man was standing there, and seeing Alex, his face broke into a smile. But Alex didn't know him and he couldn't have been over twenty-five. "Alexandra Eames?"

"Yes," she answered, sounding uncertain.

"Good. Forgive the stupid grin, but this is one of the sweetest ones we've ever done. You've got quite an admirer. I've already gotten permission from your manager and notified your neighbors that are here for the day, so don't worry about that."

"Umm?" Alex managed.

He handed her another piece of paper, elegant and thick. with the same handwriting. "We're setting up now. Hope you enjoy."

And before Alex could ask him what the heck he was talking about, he was out the door and down the stairs. She rushed to the window, but Andrea was already there. "Um, Alex. That's a steel drum band. Why?"

The music started. It was beautiful of course, but Alex's head was spinning from the outright weirdness of the whole thing. And somewhere in the past seven years, she had gotten to the point where it took a _lot _of weirdness to make her head spin. She looked at the note, hoping for an explanation, or better, a name.

_Dear Alex,_

_Hope you enjoy the music. You might want to jot down the playlist, just for fun._

_Always yours,_

_Your Would-Be Valentine_

"Playlist?" Andrea wondered. "What does he mean by that?"

Alex frowned. "I know this song." She concentrated, then seemed to have a Eureka moment. "It's ABBA!" She laughed. "How many people actually know that I love ABBA?" _Who cares how many_, she thought, he _does. _ "It's..." she struggled with the title. "'Angeleyes.'" She jotted it down.

Andrea was incredulous. "Are you telling me that there is a steel drum band outside your apartment on Valentine's Day serenading you with ABBA?!" Alex nodded, looking like a teenager. "Alex, your secret Valentine is a headcase."

Alex's grin only broadened. "We can hope!"

"Ha!" Andrea cried triumphantly. "I _knew _you were hoping it was him!"

Alex shrugged. "Busted. But I'm going to try not to think about that. Because it's probably not, and if I..." she didn't finish her thought, and her sister just nodded. "Wait, this is a different one. 'Lovelight'," she said pensively, jotting this down under the first.

"Ooh, 'Angeleyes' and 'Lovelight.' This is getting juicy!"

But Alex was still frowning in concentration. "Hm. They're not in order. Not even from the same album." She picked up a book to read, or at least try to read to keep herself occupied while she waited for the next song to start. Now that her mind had settled on a puzzle, she couldn't let it go.

"Will you shut that detective brain off long enough to enjoy the music, not to mention the attention?" her sister implored. "Somebody _loves _you! Just relax and be happy about it."

"Nope. It was a short note, so there had to have been some reason to mention the playlist." She tapped her eraser absently on the notepad. "Eagle," she mumbled, writing this down below the other two.

"Can you imagine how much it would cost to rent a steel drum band? As if the ring wasn't enough!"

"No, I hadn't really thought about it." It hadn't occurred to Alex, but as soon as she thought of it, she realized that the price, even for an hour, would be ridiculous, probably a few dollars _above _ridiculous on Valentine's Day. "You already said whoever it is has a lot of money." She went back to the book, trying hard not to think about how much an entire wardrobe of specially tailored big and tall Armani suits would cost. She frowned, almost a pout this time. This music was slow, and a little creepy sounding. "This isn't ABBA. I've heard it, but I don't..."

"I know it!" her sister said, looking gleefully smug. Then her face grew into a smile. "Gimme that list, I think I get it." Alex handed over the paper. "Yup. 'Alex'."

Now Alex was completely miffed. "What?"

"I'm not calling you, that's what it says. This is the theme song from _The X-Files_ There's no ABBA song that starts with X. I don't think. Well, there really aren't _any _songs that start with X. Look," Andrea passed back the pad.

Alex grinned immediately.

Angeleyes

Lovelight

Eagle

"'X-Files'," she wrote. "I told you there was a reason for the note. I feel like Ralphie with the Little Orphan Annie decoder ring. Hopefully this one won't spell out an ad for Ovaltine." "I still want to watch the movies," she added to Andrea simply.

Her sister was aghast. "You've got the Secret Admirer Show going on outside your window from apparently the sweetest man on the planet, and you want to watch _The Demon_!?"

"No, of course not. I want to watch _Saw_. Gimme gimme." _Hmm, I wonder if that one'll be in there somewhere_? Her sister looked stunned. Alex shrugged. "Truth is, I need something to get my mind off this, or I'm going to go bonkers. He'll obviously reveal himself in all his freakin' splendor sometime today, I just have to wait. And I don't want to think about who it might be, because, I'll probably just end up hurt if I speculate." She thought for a moment, tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "I Wonder," she said as she wrote the title.

"What?"

"No, that's the title. 'Alex, I...'" She shrugged. "See what I mean? I takes too long, I'll go batty."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "My sister, ladies and gentlemen." Alex glared. "Getting a musical love letter while watching people hack their limbs off."

By the time Dr. Gordon had finished said hacking ("No, Andrea, no one technically does any limb _hacking _until number three."), the band had gone through 'Lovers', 'Our Last Summer', 'Voulez-vous', 'Estoy Sonando', and 'Yippie-Yay', Alex dutifully wrote down the songs that played. She could see where it was going, but didn't let herself say it until it was finally all spelled out. 'On and on and On', and 'Under Attack'.

"Alex, I love you." She smiled, then raised an eyebrow at her sister. "Think he signed it?" Her sister just shrugged. Alex didn't even go back to the pretence of watching the movie. She sat, transfixed, waiting for the next song. She had never noticed that 'Under Attack' was the longest song ever written. She was fighting back the urge to retreat to the comfort of Ben and Jerry's when the next song began.

Andrea was waiting for a reaction, and was not disappointed. Alex jumped up off the sofa and grabbed her sister in a bear hug. "What did I miss?"

"'Baby'. This is 'Baby'. It's him: I don't know any other Bs."

Andrea tired to calm her sister. "I think you're probably right, but try to calm down. It could be something else. Maybe whoever it is just saying "I love you, Baby."

Alex felt like she was listening to the winning lottery numbers in torturous three minute intervals. 'One Man One Woman.' Every time the music stopped, there was a painful moment when she was afraid that it wouldn't start again, or that it would be the wrong letter and ruin her excitement. 'Bella Note' (_looks like_, she thought). The split second it took her to recognize the song filled her head with doubts and worries that she wasn't going to recognize it. 'Burning Bridges'. There couldn't be any doubt now, could there? But 'Burning Bridges' just seemed to keep playing for an eternity, until...

"'You Owe Me One'," she screamed at her sister.

"Tell me that's the name of the song and I didn't lose a bet I didn't know about?" her sister hoped. Alex nodded brightly.

"I gotta make a phone call." She grabbed her cell and headed out of the room, running back to get the velvet box and put the ring on her right ring finger. She would worry later about making up a cover story about who it was from.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Wasn't he ever going to pick up!? Voice mail. _Dammit_, Alex thought, _what the hell can I leave on a voice mail that even comes close to-_ "Hi, Gor- Bobby, This is Ea- Alex." _Great start, dear. Stumble much? _"Well, we really need to talk, and um, call me." She hung up. Hmm, what was he going to think of that message? We really need to talk: Isn't that usually the break-up line? Yikes. She bit her lip indecisively.

"It's still spelling," her sister hissed. "And I don't know them!"

"People Need Love," Alex snapped angrily. "Now, I'm trying to make an important phone call!"

"Sorry, but obviously he's got everything planned out to perfection, and if he's not picking up, there's a reason."

Alex hit the redial, figuring her sister was right. "Um, hi, well, it's me. Again. I just, um, well, I, I wanted to tell you that when I say we need to talk, it's not a _bad _talk. That just sounded kind of scary, and I figured I should let you know that that wasn't, you know, _that _kind of we need to talk. Um, the point is, don't worry. Okay?" She hung up again. Still scary. "So Long," she hissed at her sister, who had come back for the beginning of a new song.

"I'm going, I'm going," Andrea conceded irritably.

Alex rolled her eyes again. "The _song_. S. PS," she amended, looking at the list. She pressed the redial, shooing her sister out of the room. If he had had enough courage to pull of something this big, the least she could- She dialed the number again, and hoped to God this hadn't been someone's idea of a practical joke.

"I love you."

"They're still going. I caught Take a Chance on Me after the PS, then missed one. What's this one?"

Alex thought a moment. "I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do," she answered, counting out the dos.

The phone rang. "I'm going to go into the other room now, and...um, go make up an excuse not to be here," Andrea said.

"Good plan. Run with it. Run faster." She answered. "Hi, Bobby."

"Alex, hi," he said shyly. Somehow, even over the phone she could tell that he was looking down and shuffling his feet like a little boy. The picture made her smile. "I guess we need to talk, huh?"

"Yes, but I'd really like to- Dammit! Sorry, there's somebody at the door, hold on." She pushed the hold button, and grumbled. "Perfect-" she opened the door to find her partner standing there, holding a single red rose and looking, if possible, more uncomfortable than he'd sounded on the phone. "Um, timing. I should have expected that." Over the initial shock, she hung up the phone and smiled warmly. "It's been a wonderful couple weeks. Thank you."

"What you, um, said on the phone. Were you trying to let me know that you'll still be my partner after all this?" He raised an eyebrow, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I mean, you're not mad at me, I guess. You put the ring on, but how exactly do you feel?"

_Poor baby_, she thought. _Here's an amazing man: brilliant, kind, thoughtful, and drop dead gorgeous, everything a woman could want, and he won't let himself believe that I could love him. Time for the big guns_. She stepped calmly up to him, took the rose out of his hand, and gently set it down on the welcome mat. He was looking very confused. "I don't want to scratch you with it," she explained simply. She smiled easily, and reached up on tiptoe to kiss him solidly on the mouth, making sure the Great Detective Goren was comprehending the meaning of "I love you." The smile that he could feel on her mouth helped, too.

"Mumph," she said into him. "So how, exactly, _do _I feel?" she challenged.

"Amazing," he answered immediately, sounding stunned.

"Must be hard to do such sweet-talking when your jaw is on the floor." He was so dazed, he didn't even laugh. "Well, you can pick it up, now," she assured him, leaning her head into his shoulder. "I do love you." She looked back up at him. "This took a lot of courage. Thank you." She stroked his cheek. "Wow, you even shaved. I _am _special." She coaxed a smile out of him this time.

"I need to apologize first."

Alex looked stunned. "Just when I think you can't surprise me anymore..." 

"I've been lousy and surly and jealous the past couple weeks. I had to make sure you were going to have at least a tolerable reaction to all this. If you had had a talk with me about the jealousy, you know, talking about boundaries, I'd have known that I had to stop short. You seemed to be enjoying the way I was acting about, and yes, I know you asked May if it was me. Great little secret keeper, May. I told her you'd show up to investigate, probably taking me along." He looked resigned. "Point is, I'm sorry for testing you like that. Manipulating you. I shouldn't treat you like a perp."

"It's okay, you had a good reason, and like you said, I thought it was funny. You really had me reeling, you know, seeing you so upset about my admirer. Besides, I'm assuming part of that test was that cute little, very little, shirt you wore to the show?" He nodded. "That _more _than makes up for the rest of your tests. I assume you found my reaction satisfactory?"

He turned pink, an adorable color on him, in Alex's opinion. "Yeah, well, that was very flattering." He licked his lips, still looking nervous. "I made sure to act how I would have acted if I hadn't known about it. Like a jealous idiot, basically. I needed to prove that I could-"

"Keep a secret. Good job: I didn't know it was you. We can do this. Because I know that no matter what may happen to us, our partnership is safe. Nothing can damage that, because I trust you, and I know that nothing you are capable of doing could hurt me enough to make me walk away from you." She straightened herself up, proper. "Now I don't want you to think," she said firmly, "That this means you're just going to hop into my bed right away. It is _way _too early for that."

"You know I wouldn't- That's not what matters. I-"

"Because it's still early afternoon," she continued. "Supper's usually at six, so we'll see what happens after that, good?"

He laughed. "Whatever you want: I'm not going to rush you."

"I know that. That's the kind of man you are. _I'm _not making any promises on that front." She paused. "Since I basically haven't moved off your shoulder for more than a few seconds at a time, how about we just go inside, dance to the lovely steel drum - why steel drums anyway?" He shrugged. "...music, and talk there, hm?" She jumped. "Oh, wait a second, 'Arrival'," she said, making a note on her paper. "And the one before that was...'Pick a Bale of Cotton.'"

He was grinning. "You're still writing them down? Why? It doesn't spell anything."

"Nope. I know when you're up to something. We can talk, and at three and a half minute intervals I jot down more of your super-secret coded message. What, it's fun: I love a puz-" she smiled, looking at the ring. "A puzzle. So what about all those insults you were lobbing at your own gifts, anyway?"

"Part of the secret. I hope you didn't take the story about puzzle ring seriously?"

"No, I thought you were being a jealous, petty, adorable little idiot."

"Okay, good, we're on the same page. That _is _what I've read about it, but it's fitting because we're detectives. I mean, sometimes a cigar...Well, there is one other thing about it. If you take the ring off, if you separate it from you, it falls apart."

"You underestimate yourself, Bobby. Eventually, I'm going to convince you of that. 'Ring Ring'."

"It doesn't spell anything. I could just tell you."

"Don't even think about it. This is great. And about the secret? Nothing's really changed. We _are _the same. We _feel _the same. And I'll be less likely to start making out with you in the break room if I know I can make out with you later," she explained. 

"And the names?"

She considered this seriously for a moment. "Well, I'm the first partner you've really held onto right? 'Two for the Price of One'." 

"That's putting it tactfully, yeah."

"Oh, yeah, that's me, the Queen of Tact. Everyone knows you've been afraid I'll leave, and that I've been trying to convince you that I'm here for good. I've wanted you to be able to see me as a friend. So starting the middle of next week, I'm going to start calling you Bobby."

He considered. "I'll look startled at first, but pleased, then I'll get used to that."

"Right. 'Dancing Queen' Then I'll pull you aside about a week later for a talk to tell you that you really need to start opening up to me a little more as a friend."

"So I should start calling you Alex because it gets a little hurtful when I won't let you be my friend."

"Exactly. 'One of Us'."

"Which one?"

"I'm still spelling. Want to watch a movie? We've got enough to choose from. I think between the two of us, we've got more than fifty movies."

"Between you and your sister?"

"Of course, who do you think I mean? 'Elaine.'" 

"I thought her name was Andrea? Oh, spelling, yeah. Where is Andrea, anyway?"

"She went into the other room as soon as you called."

"Well, good grief, she doesn't have to hide in there all day. Call her back in here, I don't want her feeling unwelcome."

"Andrea, I'm not holding you hostage anymore! Come out here and watch a movie with us! 'She's My Kind of Girl!'" she finished just as loud.

"She's still spelling, isn't she, Detective Goren?" Andrea asked, shaking his hand.

"I should've known better than to give her something ridiculous to figure out. It doesn't spell anything. It's nice to meet you."

"Ditto. By the way, do you have a brother?"

"Andrea!" she hissed. 'Number One, Number One'."

"None good enough for an Eames."

"Bummer, a guy like you is hard to find."

Alex's face broke into a smile. "You still into really nice guys with really hot cars?"

"Do you still ask stupid questions?"

Alex smirked conspiratorially at Bobby, handing him the phone. She kissed him on the nose. "'Thank You for the Music'."

"Um, talking to me or spelling?" he wondered.

"Both. And while he is calling his buddy, we are picking a movie," she said to Andrea.

"Oh,_ Evil Dead 2_, here," she said happily.

"'Should I Laugh or Cry?'" she mumbled.

"A little of both, it's slapstick horr- oh."

About five minutes after Evil Dead 2 started, though, Andrea stood up. "I have to get headed home. According to your partner, I need to get ready for a blind date." She grinned.

"'Put On Your White Sombrero'." Bobby poked her. "Oh, sorry," she said looking up from the paper. She stood to hug her sister. "Thanks for coming. Have a great time."

"You, too," she said under her breath as she left the apartment.

Between talking, kissing Bobby and writing down song titles, Alex was completely ignoring poor Bruce Campbell and his wayward hand, not to mention the gallons of blood. Besides, the movie was juvenile and ridiculous.

Bobby thought it was hysterical. But he preferred Alex's brand of diversions, despite the fact that she kept breaking off their kisses to write down songs. ("'Eagle'. There are only two E songs, aren't there? I knew it was spelling something.")

"It doesn't spell anything," he reiterated.

She looked down at her list. "I know when you're full of it, you know. PSTHISPARTDOESNTSPE..." She rolled her eyes. "PS, this part doesn't spell anything."

He was grinning broadly. "I told you."

"I'm _still _the funny one," Alex said, but she was having trouble talking through a fit of laughter. "You know, we've rubbed off on each other so much, I'm surprised we _haven't _been accused yet. Everyone already thinks we're having an affair. The ones that don't matter do, anyway, and it's no wonder. So everyone will figure that we would never be _stupid _enough to be having an affair while we're acting like an old married couple all the time."

"Um, what does that say for our intelligence?"

"Loads. It means we're smart enough to know what the enemy is thinking, and we act exactly the opposite of what they think we should be acting like, if what they suppose is true, which it is."

"I'm getting a headache." 

"Don't you dare," she warned. "The fact that you understood a word of what I just said is exactly why we should be together anyway."

"It will be tough," he said seriously. "You're absolutely sure?"

"'Lay All Your Love on Me'," she answered, moving in to kiss him.

And that was the last time she stopped to ponder the song titles.

Sorry it took so long! Hope it was worth it! Happy Valentine's Day!

Next time (One more chappie):

"Goren! Eames! Get in here now!"

Abject terror filled both their faces, and they wondered if it would be the last time they were ever called into the office together again.

(Relax: _I'm _writing it, remember!?)


	7. The Fluff Obligatory

Can You Keep a Secret?

By LMR

I want you to know that I suffer for your entertainment! I cannot for the life of me get Angeleys out of my head!!!!!!!

Disclaimer: If a person can't be convicted of murder because of insanity, it follows then that I cannot be convicted of stealing the ownership of Law and Order: Criminal Intent. I can honestly say that I don't know what I'm doing! Thanks to Dick Wolf, Kathryn Erbe (sigh she's wearing a tank top today.), and Vincent D'Onofrio (confundus of my Kinsey score).

Chapter 7: The Fluff Obligatory Ceremony of Other-Way Looking

As the two had expected, Monday found them very much the way they had been on Tuesday afternoon. They were both happier, and had someone been looking for it, they might have noticed a change in average distance between the two, an increase of about one quarter inch. Someone might have noticed that they were smiling, on average between the two, sixteen point three percent more than they had on a typical workday before then. The important thing, though, was that they were, to each other, the same people that they had been last Tuesday. They meant as much as they had to each other Tuesday. They loved each other as much as they had Tuesday.

Not that they were entirely well behaved. Alex opened her top drawer in the morning to find a piece of paper with "I love you" written on it in huge letters. She smiled, trying not to smile too much, and after getting what she needed out of the drawer (and covering the note), she put her attention on her paperwork. She moved her hand so that the two middle fingers were tucked up under her palm and left the rest out, absently tapping her pinky against the desk for a few moments as if lost in thought, then stopped and went back to her work. Bobby smiled, but didn't look at her.

"Goren! Eames! Get in here now!"

Abject terror filled both their faces, and they wondered if it would be the last time they were ever called into the office together again. Their eyes met for a second, with expressions of confusion and dread. _We stick to the story, _they said.

"Sit." There wasn't a trace of a smile on Deakins's face.

"Sir?" Eames asked, diving into the method acting and convincing herself that she had no idea why they were here.

"If there is one thing the two of you can't pull off, it's playing dumb. Out with it."

The two looked completely thrown. Trying to act respectful and incredulous at the same time, they attempted to convey through their faces, What are you talking about?

"What...what are you talking about?" Goren asked, looking thoroughly confused.

He looked at Goren, then at Eames, back at Goren. "Good Lord, you are good. All right," he put his hands up. "You two could obviously spend the entire day acting like you have no idea what I'm talking about and never break character or mess up your stories once. So I'm just going to talk, and let you sit there and stare at me like idiots. Fun as it is to watch my two best detectives squirm, I'll let you off the hook now: You're not separated, you're not fired, you're not suspended, you're not in any kind of trouble." He smiled a little. "There, I could swear I saw a little flicker of surprise, Eames. Otherwise, flawless. But you can relax." He paused. "You behave well at work, you keep things unobtrusive, and rest assured that if a fight or something goes so bad that I have to split you up, I'll string you both up by your ears. I _really _don't think that will happen, that's the only reason you're still partnered. I know you, I think you can make it work, and..." he hesitated. "The best way to make it work is to avoid the stress of sneaking around. Truth is, if it's something everyone _knows _about, it stops being something to _talk _about, and the watercooler will get bored with it." He sighed.

They exchanged looks again. _He means it. He knows. He's not tricking us._

Goren shrugged. "That's the way it usually works, yeah." 

"So you want us to do what exactly?" Eames wondered.

"Shrug it off, but be honest about it. When they ask, just say that yes, you are in a relationship now, but it's not going to change anything here."

"And the Commissioner?" Goren asked. 

"Well, he won't be happy when he finds out, but with your record for getting confessions, I don't think he'd want to do the criminals of New York the favor of splitting you up. And if I have to, to some extent, anyway, I'll go to bat for you." He paused, making sure they were aware of the gravity of the situation. "I'm putting myself and my judgment on the line here, detectives. I'm counting on you to be the cops I know you both are." 

"Yes, sir. Thank you," they both said quietly.

"So...You're not mad?" Eames ventured.

"I'm mad as hell." They inhaled shakily and looked at the floor. "If you had done this two and a half months ago I would have won the betting pool."

The both exhaled in relieved laughter, before the curiosity oozed into Goren's forehead, bunching it up. "Who won?"

"You'll have to ask Logan, I have no idea. And if he starts to make a big fuss about this whole thing, tell Barek I officially authorize her to smack him upside the head." 

Eames wrinkled her forehead. "One more thing: How do we get into the betting pool for _them_?"

"Logan," Eames called casually. "We want to see this betting pool we're hearing about." She put a look on her face that radiated disapproval, just to make him sweat a little.

Logan blanched and gulped. "I, um, what?" He tried to look relaxed. 

"Well, we know who _can't_ keep a secret," Eames remarked. Goren smiled. "We know about the betting pool," she explained. "And we're only marginally ticked off. We want to see it. Gimmie, gimmie." She stopped, pensive. "You never did use that one, it's so fitting for me."

"'Girl With the Golden Hair'," he explained.

"Oh, 'course."

Barek raised an eyebrow. "Finding out who won?"

"Yup: Who's down for Wednesday afternoon?" she told Logan.

"Ooh, you were Mr. X. Okay, we have a few categories here: is this Goren's admission, Eames's admission, first kiss, first, um, never mind that one, engaged, or eloped?" He took in their stunned (and somewhat insulted expressions). "Hey I'm trying to run a business here: I gotta be precise."

Eames counted off on her fingers. "Yes, yes, yes, none of your freakin' business, no, and hell no."

Logan grinned. "And we have a clear winner, right down to 'Eames will knock you senseless if you ask that forth one.' Wow, she's impressive. I gotta have her pick out my next lottery ticket!"

"Who?" Goren asked eagerly.

"Some detective named, ah, Lynne Bishop. You should write her a note."

Their answer was simultaneous. "Nah."

Yay! I finished. Hope everyone liked it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are the best. LMR


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